Beyond the Horizon
by DaisyWillLiveForever
Summary: "Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Dead!" was the Headline. Hermione threw the paper down in disgust. Prequel to 'You Again'.
1. Chapter 1

A/N- This is the prequel to my story 'You Again'. You could read them in either order, You Again doesn't have major spoilers for this story. (You Again is a Dramione story, but I must admit that this story has little-to-no Draco/Hermione interaction. Sorry!)

Title: Beyond the Horizon (I couldn't find a name that worked with 'You Again'... ah well.)

Summary- "Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Dead!" was the Headline. Hermione threw the paper down in disgust.

Warnings- Some mentions of rape, violence, child abuse

Disclaimer- If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be rich. I'm not rich, and I don't own Harry Potter.

xXx

Chapter One

Chapter One

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_"Expelliarmus!"_

The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead center of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided.

-(Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows)

xXx

_Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Dead!_

Draco Malfoy scowled at the headline printed in the Daily Prophet. How they even managed to write the article itself, he would never know. The Dark Lord Voldemort himself had just won, essentially, the entire war. The Daily Prophet shouldn't even be in operation, much less printing a new article about an event that happened just six hours before.

With a quick _Incendio _the paper was no more. Draco's mother watched his movements carefully from her seat across the Slytherin table.

"Draco," She muttered warningly as he swept the ashes beneath the table, "Whatever are you doing?"

"I didn't want to stare at that rubbish any longer," He replied in a similar tone. Pansy Parkinson, who was perched in the seat next to his on the bench, smirked.

"It's a bunch of prattle, isn't it?" Pansy declared regally, though the repressed laughter in her voice counteracted the effect. Draco scowled at her; she was too foolish and it was too early (it was actually around twelve o'clock, but that wasn't really important) to be dealing with such nonsense.

"I'm going for a walk," He bit out, pushing away from the table and making his way through the hall. He avoided the burnt remains of the other three tables and the dead bodies, which were covered in sheets in the far corner of the hall. It was mid-afternoon, and the world seemed to have reached a stand-still.

Harry Potter was dead.

The sentence kept running itself through his head, again and again. Draco didn't like Potter as a person, after all, but he was pretty much the only thing standing in the way of a power-crazed man. A man who threatened teenage boys and forced them to kill the Headmaster of the school in which said teenage boys attended.

As he rounded a corner, caught up in his thoughts, Draco nearly collided with several young students. They were huddled together against the wall, whispering quietly. They all glanced up with wide, pleading eyes.

"M-Malfoy," One of them squeaked, she couldn't have been more than a second year, "W-we didn't mean—"

Draco avoided them, skirting around their group with ease. There were young students everywhere, students who didn't have wizard families or who couldn't escape the premise in time. Voldemort had locked down the school, and by extension Hogsmeade, shortly after Potter died. He was currently on a mission, along with the majority of the Death Eaters, to find Granger and Weasley, who escaped. As far as anyone could tell, Longbottom, Lovegood and Weaslette were with them, but it was all speculation. Draco himself couldn't be bothered, he was too concerned with his mother for that.

She would be punished for the stunt she pulled in the Forbidden Forrest, that was for sure. She'd let Harry Potter live, if only for a short while. If Voldemort wasn't so preoccupied with chasing down a bunch of teenagers, he would've been punishing Draco's mother, along with the other blood traitors. The thought set him on edge.

Needless to say, Draco was not looking forward to when the Dark Lord arrived back at Hogwarts.

As he rounded yet another corner, Draco found himself faced with a half demolished corridor. There was no way he was going to be able to venture more than a few steps into the debris. Instead of turning back, however, Draco moved toward what was left of the large, open windows. He leaned halfway out of one, staring across the land and into the horizon.

It was almost peaceful, but the chaos that Voldemort had brought had left a mark on the earth. Creatures of all types were wandering across the scorched grass. Those Death Eaters that remained were corralling the injured into two tents near the edge of the Forrest; one for the mudbloods and blood traitors, and the other for the half and purebloods. Draco knew that it would be further divided later, halfbloods were a tricky sort of subject for the Death Eaters to handle.

Draco focused on the ground directly below the window so he wouldn't have to think about what was happening in those tents. There was a small pile of bodies against the wall. They were covered in a thick blanket of some kind, a bit like a tarp. A pale arm had escaped the wrappings and it hung limply against the dark stone. It was fascinating, that arm. Draco wondered who it belonged to; if the other one was marred with Voldemort's mark or if it was the same pasty-pale tone. If he squinted enough, and used his imagination, Draco could imagine dirt on that hand, a ring perhaps…

For a split second, Draco considered leaning over the edge a bit more. It would be… an accident. Yes, an accident. It would be so easy, to join those peacefully blissful bodies below. So, so easy, to simply let the struggles of this world go—

"Draco!"

Leaping back from the window sill as though it burned him, Draco spun around. Walking toward him was Blaise Zabini, a carefree smile stretched across his lips. There was something in his eye, a look of sorts, that made Draco hesitate to respond.

It was gone a second later, when Blaise said, "I've been looking for you everywhere, mate. Didn't know you liked watching the clouds pass,"

"I don't," Draco responded tightly, taking another tentative step away from the window, "I was bored of the mindless chatter with Parkinson is all,"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "You never had a problem telling her to shut it before,"

With a lack of something to say in response, the two fell into silence. Until—

"Is this about Crabbe?"

Draco visibly flinched. Ah yes, Crabbe. One of his only true, _albeit stupid_, friends was dead. Draco had nearly managed to forget in between the fighting and collapsing into bed out of pure exhaustion.

"I suppose so," He replied, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth furiously. Blaise sighed.

"He's in a better place,"

As ridiculous as the words were, Draco couldn't help but agree. Crabbe was in a better place, any place was better than here.

_Relax Draco, _a voice at the back of his mind commanded, _thoughts like that are what'll get you killed in your bed. _

"I don't know about you, but I'm celebrating. We won!" Blaise announced, smile appearing once more. Draco wanted to sneer at him, but he opted to smirk instead.

"Yeah, we did. Still have to take care of the Ministry though. And the rest of Potter's cronies,"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "I the Death Eaters can take them. Potter was their only hope,"

_Yeah, _another, quieter voice whispered to Draco, _he was the only hope for me too. _

"Whatever. He's dead, and their spirits will be easy to break without their precious savior," Draco spat out, but it wasn't as full of malice as he wanted it to be.

The two walked in silence for a while, until they were back at the entry hall. Draco headed toward the double doors that would take him to his mother, but Blaise stepped into his path swiftly.

"Draco," He muttered, eyes trained on Draco's. He found it difficult to look away from the intense gaze, "I'm going to visit my mother. She has a villa you know, in Italy. I was just wondering if—"

Blaise's sentence cut off as several fourth year Ravenclaws descended the staircase. He waited, with bated breath, as they passed into the Great Hall. Several seconds ticked by before Blaise began to talk again.

"Come with me," He stated abruptly. It was almost frantic, how the words were jerked from his throat unbidden. Blaise blinked in shock for a moment, and Draco could tell that he had not meant to speak in such a way.

It was tempting. But Draco knew he couldn't. Blaise, a loyal yet unattached Slytherin could slip away from the Death Eaters without much trouble. Draco wouldn't be so lucky.

"Thanks, but no. I need to help the Dark Lord,"

Blaise nodded, as though he expected such a response. The floor was no longer covered in rubies, Draco noted; someone must've swept them up. It was odd to think that house points were no longer important. If what Voldemort had said during the battle was true, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were a thing of the past.

"When're you leaving?" Draco asked, mostly out of curiosity. Blaise shrugged, turning his attention to the large oak doors behind them.

"I dunno, when the Dark Lord gets back… I suppose…" He trailed off, a habit which Blaise had as a young teenager. Years in Slytherin, and learning how to arrange one's speech patterns so they appeared confident, eradicated it however.

Draco, curious as to what distracted Blaise so much that he couldn't complete his sentence, turned. The doors to the entryway of the school, which were previously locked and bolted, were dangling wide open. Standing in the frame, with their black cloaks contrasted against the bright blue sky, were the Death Eaters. At the head of the group was Lucius Malfoy, and beside him, Voldemort.

Draco swallowed. The Death Eaters were back. And they did not look pleased.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N- There are several variants from canon in this story (obviously), but a major one that I forgot to mention is that Bellatrix was never killed by Molly Weasley and is, therefore, alive. _

_I know this was a somewhat long wait for such a short chapter. The next one will be out next week (or so) and it will have Hermione in it (yay!) _

_Warnings- non explicit violence, character death_

_Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter _

Chapter Two

_Crack._

The loud sound cut through the forest, echoing around the trees. The pale morning light filtered through their branches, casting shadows on the lush green grass. Birds, which had been singing just moments earlier, fell silent. A rabbit in the center of the clearing ran for cover at the loud noise.

"We need to set up wards." Came a tired voice from the huddle of bleeding teenagers.

"I'll get started." Another weary voice whispered in reply, and a boy with a shock of matted red hair pulled a wand from inside his cloak. He muttered incantations, walking around the perimeter of the field with a countenance of experience.

The birds began to sing to one another again, and soon the forest was full of life once more. The only addition was the sound of sobbing, and of blood dripping to the ground.

xXx

Evening fell. The Death Eaters that had gone after Weasley and Granger were holding a private meeting; not even Bellatrix, who had been asked to stay behind to man the school, was allowed in. Draco was sitting—unwillingly, mind you-outside the tilted stone gargoyle. His aunt was leaning against the same wall on the other side of the entrance, and was currently picking something out from under her fingernails.

"So, Draco," She simpered, crazed eyes meeting his, "What do you think of your mother's betrayal?"

"Betrayal?" Draco feigned ignorance, blinking at her in an attempt to mirror her child-like curiosity, "What are you talking about?"

"Blatantly lying to our Lord, of course. About that Potter brat." Bellatrix's tone turned sour, eyes narrowing venomously. Draco stared at her, face blank.

"That is between our Lord and my mother, don't you think?" He replied with an equally poisonous undertone. Bellatrix did not reveal the fury that was surely simmering inside her, instead cackling loudly.

"Yes, yes, of course! How could I be so silly! After all, 'Sissy must've had a good reason for acting like such a dirty blood traitor, right Draco?!"

"Right."

Silence fell, heavy between them. The stone gargoyle, which had been still for nearly six hours, jumped aside quickly to reveal the moving staircase. Voldemort descended, wiping his blood stained hands on his cloak. Draco swallowed the lump in his throat, falling into step behind his aunt. There were shuffling footsteps from behind him, but Draco knew it was just his father and the rest of the Death Eaters. No doubt they had been punished in some way or another.

As curious as Draco was about Granger and Weasley, he was glad he didn't have to endure six hours alone with the raging Dark Lord.

They descended the many staircases. Those paintings that had not been slashed or abandoned during the fight gasped as they passed. Several of the women fainted inside their frames. An elderly man, whose portrait Draco had passed many a time but had never bothered to read the plaque, cursed rather violently.

Several students passed by them, cowering in fear. Voldemort paid them no mind, although Bellatrix was throwing out _Crucios _like it was Christmas. Draco was almost grateful that only the older students were brave enough to venture the main corridors—if a younger student was to be cursed in such a way, Draco thought he might lose his lunch.

When they reached the main hallway, Voldemort came to a halt. Bellatrix, followed by the Lestrange brothers and Draco's father, glided to a halt behind him. The rest of the Death Eaters stumbled for a moment; they were not as in tune with their master's mannerisms.

"I admit, I was not pleased with the developments of last night's… battle," The Dark Lord stated coldly, "But I must say, there were several… _Highlights _which are notable enough… Draco!"

Draco felt as though his blood froze.

"Come here." Draco obeyed the command, stepping away from the rest of the Death Eaters and into Voldemort's view.

"I have a job for you, Draco." He crooned, eyes squinting as a sinister smile worked its way onto his face.

"My Lord?"

"Bring her in." Voldemort stated over his shoulder, and one of the masked Death Eaters stepped away from the rest. The front doors were opened slowly, and from the darkness beyond a struggling mass was brought into the corridor.

Luna Lovegood.

Unlike all the other dangerous situations Draco had seen her in (granted, there weren't many), Luna appeared genuinely terrified as she was thrown at the feet of Voldemort. Blood was smeared across her face, though there didn't appear to be a wound on her head. Her clothes were torn in several places. Eyes wide, she looked up at Voldemort. Gone was the dreamy countenance; in its place was a hard gaze and lips pressed together so close the edges were white. She was shaking like a leaf, however, which severely counteracted the effect she was going for.

Voldemort shifted back, one of his hands coming to rest on Draco's shoulder.

"Kill her." He whispered in his ear. A shiver of horror shot up Draco's spine.

He didn't want to kill her. Striking down another in the heat of battle was one thing. It was easy to call that defense. Or following orders, at least. This, though, this sort of thoughtless murder? This was wrong.

It didn't help that Luna was staring at him now with a look that was almost pleading.

"Go on," Voldemort hissed, "Kill her, Draco."

"Draco," Luna reached an arm out, which seemed rather difficult considering that they were tied together, "Don't do this."

For a moment, it was almost as though he'd been thrown back into the Astronomy tower a year before. It wasn't Luna begging him, but Dumbledore. Offering him a chance at redemption. Offering to help him unconditionally.

"You're better than this," Luna tried to scoot forward, but was yanked back by one of the Death Eaters—Avery?—by her hair, "You don't have to—"

"_Avada Kedavra_."

_"__I can help you Draco…"_

"Good, good." Voldemort was smiling again, and he kicked at Lovegood's body as he passed, "I'm sure the elves will have made us something to eat by now…"

Draco followed behind him silently, swallowing back bile when he passed by the limp form that had been so full of life just moments before.


End file.
